


Bedroom Hymns

by WroughtBetwixt



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Scott, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Biting, Collars, Eating Disorders, Emotionally Compromised, Foe Yay, Handcuffs, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Relationships, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Injury Recovery, M/M, Nogitsune Stiles, Pack Dynamics, Pain, Painplay, Poisoning, Polyamory, Possession, Possessive Behavior, Protective Scott, Restraints, Scratching, Sexual Tension, Sharing Body Heat, Sharing a Bed, Sick Stiles, Sleep Deprivation, Sleepy Cuddles, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-23
Updated: 2014-03-15
Packaged: 2018-01-13 11:51:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1225252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WroughtBetwixt/pseuds/WroughtBetwixt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's no way in hell Scott's going to let Deaton poison his best friend, even if Stiles is possessed by the nogitsune. There has to be another way, and Scott means to find it; until then, he's going to have to try and control the nogitsune. Poor Scott's going to need all the help he can get... especially since maybe the nogitsune's right where he wants to be, after all. [On hiatus.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Antidote

**Author's Note:**

> This piece starts directly on the heels of 3x19, and diverges from there. It's currently rated Teen and Up, with no warnings, but that will change as the story continues. ***Tags are for future content.*** The title of the song is taken from the song Bedroom Hymns, by Florence + the Machines. Thank you for reading. ♥

“What was that? What did you do?”  
  
“The fox is poisoned, but it’s not dead.” Deaton said without emotion. Cold, distant, removed. “Not yet. We have to wait for the poison to take it’s course.”  
  
“But...” Scott stared as Stiles’ body writhed on the floor, the familiar mouth opening and closing in painful gasps for air. How could Deaton do this, without asking Scott? How could he do it at all? “Poison. You’re... you’re going to kill him.”  
  
Deaton’s voice was a center of calm in the middle of the storm going on inside Scott’s mind. It was not a welcome calm; it was grating, irritatingly clinical. “Possibly. Scott, this nogitsune is dangerous. It’s what we have to do to keep everyone safe. It’s a risk we have to take. I’m sorry.”  
  
“No.” Scott said it before he could stop himself. Something in Scott snapped, and he could feel his claws starting to come out. It took every ounce of control Scott had to not turn on Deaton and start shredding. “Make it stop. There has to be an antidote. Give him the antidote.”  
  
“This is the only way. If I give him the antidote now, then the nogitsune might survive.”  
  
Turning his gaze to Deaton, Scott lowered his voice to a growl as his eyes flickered bright red. “Then we’ll find another way. I would rather risk the nogitsune surviving than risk Stiles dying. We’ll lock him up, we’ll find a spell. Anything but this. He is my family."  
  
“Scott--”  
  
“If you won’t get him the antidote on your own, I will _make_ you give him the antidote.”  
  
For a moment, Deaton didn’t reply; he looked from Scott to the possessed teenager, trying to think of some way to get Scott to see reason. But then Scott’s growl became an enraged snarl as the creature inside Stiles let out a strangled, rasping cry; Scott’s heart was too damn big, but he was an Alpha, nonetheless. Stiles was his pack, and he would fight any threat. And right now, Scott... trusting, naive Scott... was seeing the druid as a threat. Without a word, Deaton nodded and stood, going to the back room to find the cure. Scott would realize his mistake soon enough, and gods help them all then.  
  
Once he was gone, Scott moved to where Stiles’ body lay, curling his arms around the spasm-wracked form. He winced at the pain in his abdomen as he shifted Stiles onto his lap, but ignored it; his powers would heal him soon enough. He wasn’t so sure Stiles-- or the nogitsune-- could say the same. “Hey, man. Can you hear me?” he whispered. The only reply he got was a choking gasp, and a whimper. “It’s going to be okay. I’m not going to let you die, Stiles. Hang in there.”  
  
Deaton took longer than was necessary; when he came back, Scott snarled and snatched the syringe from his boss’ hand. “Into his neck.” Watching Scott inject the cure into Stiles’ vein, Deaton shook his head. “The oni are still outside, you know. What are you going to do with him, Scott?”  
  
“I’m going to keep him safe.”  
  
“I don’t mean Stiles,” Deaton said. His voice was no longer as calm as it had been; an edge of frustration had creeped into his tone, despite his best attempt at keeping it out. “I mean the nogitsune.”  
  
“That’s funny.” Scott look up from Stiles’ body, arms tightening their hold as he narrowed his eyes. There wasn’t a drop of humor in his words. “So did I.”  
  
“Are you really going to--”  
  
Scott cut Deaton off again. “Yes. If I have to do it to keep Stiles safe, yes. I’m not losing him.”  
  
“And if you’ve already lost him?” Deaton asked quietly.  
  
“I’m taking him home when the sun comes up,” Scott replied. He wasn’t going to grace the question with an answer. “I can keep an eye on him there. I still have some of the stuff Stiles gave me, before I learned to control my powers. I can lock him up.” Closing his eyes a moment, Scott took a breath. When he opened them again, they were back to his normal brown. “Kira...”  
  
Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Deaton stood up, going to the girl’s side and carefully looking her over. “Kira will be alright. It looks like just a bonk on the head, but I’ll take her to the hospital just in case. Look, I... Kira’s safe from the oni; I’ll make sure she’s taken care of, and protected. But you won’t be safe, if you go out there. You’ll have to stay here for the night. The oni won’t be able to get inside, and in the morning, I’ll drive you home.”  
  
“Right.” A long silence. “Is it really safe here?”  
  
“I picked up a few tricks while I was away. The oni won’t bother you here, I promise. Can you trust me?” Deaton asked. The way Scott looked at him, he almost wondered if the young Alpha would say ‘no’, but then Scott nodded. Well, at least there was that. “There’s a sofa in my office you can use, and I’ll be back once I’m sure Kira’s okay.”  
  
Scott opened his mouth and shut it again, unsure of what to say as his anger began to give way to a tired desperation. “What... What do I do if he wakes up?”  
  
“I doubt he’ll wake any time soon. If he survives the night... he’s going to be very weak. The poison won’t spread now, but the damage that was done has been done.”  
  
“... Okay.”  
  
He scooped Kira up, heading towards the back door. Deaton paused, glancing over his shoulder at Scott, who was cradling Stiles’ body and glowering at Deaton like he was a demon himself. “I’m sorry, Scott.”  
  
It sounded hollow, even to his own ears, but there was nothing more Deaton could say, not really. Scott didn’t reply. It was taking everything in him to control the wolf side of himself, the side that wanted to launch across the room and maul the man who had attacked his pack member. It was only when the door clicked shut and locked that Scott felt he could even breathe again. Stiles... the nogitsune?... was still shaking, his breathing ragged and sweat seeping from his hot, feverish skin.  
  
Scott didn’t know if Stiles or the fox could hear what was going on around them; their eyes were closed, and any attempt at rousing them resulted in tiny, painful mewls escaping Stiles’ throat. Still, as Scott began to form his plan, he spoke out loud and said exactly what he was going to do before he did it; it was something he did with the animals that came into the office, sometimes more to calm himself down than his patient. “Okay. Uhm... Alright. I’m going to set you down for a minute, okay? We need to get you out of that wet shirt, at least. I’ll go get some towels from the back room.”  
  
Leaving them alone wasn’t something Scott wanted to do, but if the oni really couldn’t come in and if they weren’t going to wake up soon, then there was no point in forcing them to lay around in cold, damp clothing. Scott found a few of the warmer blankets, returning to Stiles’ side and carefully propping them up against his chest. “Alright. I got some blankets. Let’s get you guys more comfortable, huh? Off with the top.” As soon as he’d peeled off their shirt, Scott wrapped one of the blankets around them. He hesitated a moment, then reached for their pants. “Bottoms, too. Sorry to get all personal, but you’ll be better off this way, I promise.”  
  
It’s not like it wasn’t anything Scott hadn’t seen before. Between Stiles having stayed over so much, especially after his mom had died, and the locker room... well, Scott had gotten his fair share of glimpses at Stiles in his birthday suit. Mostly by accident, but there had been a couple times Scott had wondered. Hell, sometimes Scott still wondered. But... Pausing that train of thought, Scott allowed himself to look harder at Stiles’ naked body. In the dim light, Scott could see how thin Stiles had become, and could see smooth white scars that lined his upper arms and thighs. His stomach dropped as he traced one mark that crossed Stiles’ hip; it was redder, fresher, and still healing.  
  
Feeling like he was going to throw up, Scott finished blanketing Stiles, then rolled up the last towel and tucked it gently behind Stiles’ head. “Okay. I’m going to lay you down a minute while I put your clothes in the dryer. Then I’m going to come back, and we’re going to figure out what we’re going to do next.”  
  
Scott gathered up the wet clothes and went to the little closet where the washer and dryer were kept. It didn’t take more than a minute, and Scott hurried back before he could stop and think too much about what he’d just seen. He needed to get them somewhere warmer, and then he could think. “There. Deaton said we could use his office, didn’t he? Right. Okay, I’m just going to pick you guys up and move us there.” Carefully sliding his arms around Stiles, he lifted them up tightly to his chest, wincing when they let out a guttural moan. “I’m sorry it hurts. I’ll get us settled again soon.”  
  
Deaton’s office had no windows, and only one door leading in and out. It was warmer than the back room for sure, and the sofa inside the room was nice and wide. Maneuvering just right, Scott managed to slide them both onto the plush surface, with Stiles’ upper body nestled against his. Scott let out a long exhale as he settled in; one of his arms curled around Stiles’ waist, and the other around his shoulders. His hand stroked over Stiles’ covered arm, above the scars he knew to be there. How long had this been going on? How could he not have known? Stiles had always told him everything. But as he wrapped his arms around his friend’s fragile, shivering frame, Scott wondered how much he’d actually been listening.  
  
Suddenly, uncomfortably, Scott realized just how much he had been neglecting Stiles ever since the werewolf business had started. They had been so close, once. And they still were, Scott guessed. After all, Stiles had stepped in gasoline for Scott... had let himself drown for Scott. But Scott just always expected Stiles to be there, because he’d always been there. Trusty ol’ Stiles. Stiles had done so much for him, for all of them, and Scott knew he had taken Stiles for granted.  
  
 _Wanna try making out_ , Stiles had asked that one time. Scott had laughed it off; he’d suspected that Stiles had been bi, but the idea that he was interested in Scott had completely gone over Scott’s head. Hadn’t Stiles always carried a torch for Lydia...? And he’d seen the way Stiles looked at Derek, sometimes Danny. Had he ever looked at Scott like that? Scott had no idea. Allison had drawn him in so completely, and Kira was a warm, welcome balm for the empty space Allison had left behind; they’d both just seemed actively interested, and it had felt good to feel like he was needed and wanted. Like he was a hero. But Scott knew Allison didn’t need him, and never had... she was strong enough all on her own. And what did Kira need? A friend. Not a knight in shining armor. Yeah, distracting himself and losing himself in them both had made life easier. But maybe it had also made it easier for Scott to ignore the one person who actually did need him.  
  
Maybe if he’d paid more attention, Scott would have seen it all sooner. Maybe he would have sensed the darkness growing in Stiles sooner, maybe he would have smelled the sickness, maybe he could have stopped Stiles from falling so very far into the shadows. But Stiles... Stiles was so good at smiling. He could put on a brave face for everyone, crack jokes and you’d never realize anything was wrong until it was too late. Scott blinked tears back; was it too late, this time? Was Deaton right, that Stiles was already lost to them? If it was true, Scott knew he might as well not even exist. Stiles was the one person Scott trusted without question, the only person he could tell anything and everything. He was the one person who could make everything okay again, no matter how hard the road got; Scott loved his mom more than words could say, but even she wasn’t-- couldn’t be-- the steel that flowed through Scott’s backbone. That had always been, and would always be, Stiles.  
  
Scott eased out of his thoughts as Stiles moved in his arms, just a little. His head shifted, tucking up under Scott’s chin; Scott hesitated, then relaxed into the touch. He nuzzled Stiles’ hair, breathing in his scent before placing a single, experimental kiss on his temple. It felt natural, like it was just the right thing to do, and maybe... maybe it was. “I don’t know if you can hear me, but I love you, Stiles. I’m sorry I haven’t said it more. Just come back to me, okay?”  
  
It wasn’t too late. It couldn’t be too late. Stiles had never given up on Scott, and no matter what, Scott wasn’t going to give up on Stiles. He’d always found a way before, and this time would be no different. All they had to do was make it through the night.


	2. Fight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since the show has yet to give the nogistune a proper name, I've decided to call him Kyomu here. Apparently it means "nihility" or "nothingness"; I found it appropriate. Thank you for the comments, the kudos and bookmarks, and thank you again for reading! ♥

The pain. By gods, the pain.  
  
The nogitsune thrashed, claws digging into the floor of their mind as he fought against the poison. _No, no, no._ This couldn’t be happening. Not now. Control over the body had been lost, a horrifying heat racing through it; breathing, heart rate... it was all out of his control, and all he could do was rage against it. For a split second he could breathe, one glorious breath, and then a second wave of pain hit, ripping a shrill scream from his chest. Stiles was close by, crying and howling as his body arched in painful, unnatural ways. The trickster had fallen right into a trap, and now they were both dying. That wasn’t the plan, damn it all. That hadn’t been the plan at all. _We’re trying to save your life_ , he’d said. Now here they were, both about to lose it.  
  
“Help me,” Stiles choked out, tears streaming down his face as he tried desperately to reach for the fox. “Please.”  
  
If only he could. They had been together, two lost souls, since shortly after the boy had sacrificed himself for his father. Of course, Stiles hadn’t known exactly what he was getting into when he’d allowed the nogitsune inside his mind; he’d been a lonely child, looking for someone that understood the black chasms opening in his heart. And oh, how the nogitsune understood. At one time, they could have been friends; maybe they even had been. But then it had all rolled into a tornado of anger and spite, and poor Stiles had gotten caught in the storm. By the time Stiles realized what was what, well...  
  
“Please,” the boy sobbed again. “Help.”  
  
He couldn’t move. He couldn’t speak. The pain was too intense, and the nogitsune could only watch as everything around them began to fall apart into darkness. Even if he could speak, there was nothing to say. It was too late for apologies. It was too late for comfort. It was the end. The nogitsune had played his hand at the game of revenge, and he had lost. It was only too bad the child might have to pay on a gamble he hadn’t made.  
  
But then, a voice, familiar and gentle. _“Hang in there.”_  
  
Everything suddenly shifted. For a moment, the nogitsune felt a sudden rush of cool, beautiful relief, followed by a violent, twisting agony. Muscles clenched, tighter and tighter, and he could feel a snap of bone inside the body’s ribcage. Teeth clenching. Seizing. And then... nothing. No pain, no thought. Nothing. He wasn’t sure how long it lasted, but in time, the pain returned; it seeped through the sweet blankness, and he let out a low whine at the searing pain in his abdomen. He still couldn’t move, couldn’t even muster the energy to open his eyes. The nothingness was so tempting. It would be so easy to just slip back...  
  
Fingers sunk into his fur just then, holding tight. Forcing his eyes open, the nogitsune was silent as Stiles curled around him. Stiles was shaking, much more than the fox was, and it made him stare as he realized Stiles was struggling to hold onto the body. To take the brunt of the nogitsune’s pain. “Stop.”  
  
“No,” Stiles replied through clenched teeth. “No. We’re not giving up. We’re not done.”  
  
“Think you can save me, boy?” the nogitsune asked. His tone was soft, but the words held a bite to them. “Even if you live, there’s no ‘we’ about this. They will kill me.”  
  
“We’re not going to die. Either of us.” Pulling back a few inches, Stiles looked at the nogitsune. He had dark circles around his eyes, and he was so very pale... yet, in those eyes, there was a spark of something the fox couldn’t place. “We’re going to fight this, and we’re going to win.”  
  
The nogitsune reflected again on the first time they’d met. Stiles had looked at him like that then, too. _I don’t want to be alone_ , he had whispered. _Can you help me?_ He’d opened the door so willingly, just so that he would have someone with him there in the darkness. The fox had accepted the offer just as willingly, maybe for similar reasons; the plans for revenge hadn’t come until later, after all. It seemed like a lifetime ago. And, unless he did something, it soon _would_ be. Searching Stiles’ face, the nogitsune weaved a plan as he took in the desperation and determination he saw there.  
  
... No, maybe all wasn’t lost yet. Not if he could get his boy to do one last thing.  
  
“Fine,” he answered. “Will you trust me?”  
  
Stiles nodded without hesitation. A terrible move, logically. Hadn’t he led Stiles down the merry path to madness? But it didn’t matter, really. All he needed was that agreement. This wasn't a logical situation, and it was past the time for thinking about morals and intentions; all that mattered now was survival, bleak though the outlook seemed. The nogitsune knew he had just enough power left to do this one thing; he didn’t know if he’d ever have the power to reverse it. But if they were going to die, well... at least he could give Stiles the gift of dying in peace.  
  
Raising his paw, the nogitsune pressed a claw to Stiles forehead. “Then sleep,” he murmured. The last of his energy flowed through him and wrapped around the parts of the mind and soul that belonged uniquely to Stiles, wrapping them in a cocoon of silvery light. “Sleep.”  
  
Stiles’ eyelids fluttered as he sank back down onto the floor. The look of agony eased from his face, replaced by welcome relief. “Kyomu...”  
  
With a sigh, it was done. It was the first time the fox had heard his name pass Stiles’ lips since all the trouble began. Perhaps it would be the last time he’d hear it from anyone, ever again. But the gratitude, the comfort, in that one word made it worth it. Stiles was asleep, and this time, he would be safe; he would have no nightmares, he would be free from panic and hurt. He wouldn’t wake up at all, unless the nogitsune could fix the damage he had wrought on them both; he wasn’t sure he could. He wasn’t sure he could even survive the toxin that was still flowing through them. And yet...  
  
 _Come back to me_ , the voice whispered from the outside.  
  
Scott’s voice.  
  
He had one more hand to play, after all, and he really wasn’t the type to fold. Forcing himself to his feet, Kyomu braced himself and let go, rolling over the body’s mind and soul like a mist; he filled it, making it his own and greeting the rush of physical unconsciousness as it crashed against him. With a smile, he let the waters drag him under and breathed deep.


	3. Restraint

Something was wrong.  
  
Scott awoke with a start, jerked out of a light doze by the sudden feeling that there’d been a shift in the air. Glancing around the room and listening close, Scott couldn’t hear anything out of the ordinary; in fact, he realized he couldn’t hear anything at all. No sounds in the clinic... and none coming from Stiles. Scott listened harder, but there was no breath, and no heartbeat. Cold panic bubbled up in his chest as he brought a trembling hand up to Stiles’ throat, pressing carefully where a pulse should be.  
  
“Fuck,” Scott muttered. “Had me worried.”  
  
It was sluggish, but the pulse was there. Moving his hand and placing it a few inches above Stiles’ mouth, Scott could also feel that Stiles was breathing. Scott lowered his hand, tilting his head a bit and listening again. Nothing. Resting his chin back down on Stiles’ head, he took in a long, deep breath... Nope. His scent was gone, too. What the hell? Maybe it’s from being tired, Scott thought to himself. But still, he could hear the leaky faucet in the back room without even trying, and he could smell the sleeping cats and dogs in their kennels. It was like there was an invisible bubble around Stiles’ body.  
  
Or maybe not invisible. Scott closed his eyes, allowing them to change to his wolf vision. When he opened them again and looked at Stiles, he stared in surprise. Much like Kira, he could see the outline of a muzzle and ears around his friend; unlike Kira, he could see five tail-like forms curled up and around Stiles’ legs, and the lines weren’t golden-red. These ones were black and silver, and they were much fainter than what he’d seen around Kira. _What I saw around you didn’t look evil_ , he’d said to Kira. But neither did this. Dark, maybe. But evil? Scott frowned. All he saw was a fox. A sick, injured fox.  
  
But what did evil look like, anyways? If Deaton was right...  
  
Shaking his head, Scott put that line of thinking out of his mind. When they woke up, Scott would think about it. Until then, he would focus on making sure they got better. He was relieved to see that, at least, they had stopped shaking so badly. Every so often, they would give a tiny shiver, and they were still sweating horribly. Hopefully that was the fever breaking; their skin felt warm, instead of burning hot. Maybe they would be okay, after all. It was 5am. They had survived over seven hours already. It was around another two until sunrise. It wasn’t that much longer, and then Scott could get them home.  
  
Home, and hopefully into a real bed; sleeping elsewhere had never been one of Scott’s strongest talents, and since becoming a werewolf, it had only gotten worse. Every little thing kept him awake. He’d managed to catch maybe an hour of sleep in little ten minute segments over the course of the night; the rest had been spent in a half-awake cloud of blurry thoughts, and checking his phone. Five missed messages-- two texts from Derek, one from Lydia, one from Ethan, and a frantic voicemail from his mother. All of them were the same. _Where are you? Are you okay? Where’s Stiles?_ Scott wanted so badly to answer them, but every time he went to reply, it was like every word he had turned to lead in his throat. He was just too tired, too stressed. On top of it all, Deaton had yet to return, and Scott was starting to worry.  
  
As if summoned, there was a quick open-shut-click at the back door. Deaton’s footsteps were unmistakable; relaxing, Scott forced a smile when the man poked his head in the office door. “Still alive,” Scott tried to joke, but it just came out strained. “How did it go?”  
  
“I saw your mother. She was very worried, but I let her know that I’d bring you home safe and sound in the morning.” Deaton leaned against the office wall, watching them for a moment without word. “Kira’s fine, and with her parents,” he finally continued. “I didn’t mention any of this to her, but I want you to know her mother is a powerful kitsune. If she finds out that the nogitsune inside Stiles was responsible for what happened to Kira, you won’t have just the oni to worry about. She will destroy him.”  
  
“If Kira tells her...” Scott rubbed his eyes as he felt a headache coming on. He should have been happy Kira was okay, but suddenly there was just one more helping of stress added to his plate. “Shit.”  
  
“Don’t worry. Kira woke up on the way to the hospital; I advised her to keep tonight to herself, for the time being.”  
  
Scott slid his hand up to his forehead, blinking at Deaton with wide, unsure eyes. “You did?”  
  
“I did,” the druid echoed. “We came up with a decent cover story, and her mother seemed to buy it. Kira happens to be both clumsy, and a very good liar. Now, then.” Deaton seemed to relax, turning his gaze to Stiles. “Let’s get our patient into the back and see how he’s doing.”  
  
Scott was surprised, but he nodded and shifted about, carrying Stiles’ body into the larger examining room. Stiles gave a small, breathy sound when Scott laid him on the table; Scott winced, especially as Deaton opened the towels. In the brighter light, Scott could see Stiles’ condition more easily. Deaton didn’t react at all, gathering his supplies and humming to himself like it was business as usual. Scott stood off to the side, feeling helpless and useless as Deaton went to work, minutes ticking by into an hour; he popped a thermometer in Stiles’ mouth, listened to his chest, took his blood pressure, brought out the x-ray machine... It reminded him of when he’d seen his mother trying to save Danny. It was one thing when it was happening to himself, or to some stranger. But to friends, family? To Stiles? It was like watching it through some horror-movie fog. It didn’t seem real.  
  
Deaton’s voice snapped Scott back to the present. “A slight fever. Elevated but normal blood pressure.” Lightly placing his fingertips on Stiles’ side, Deaton made a small, circling motion just under the breastbone. “And a fractured rib, likely from the muscle contractions. It doesn’t seem to be in danger of puncturing anything.”  
  
“A broken rib?” Scott asked. His voice sounded far away, robotic. “How do we fix that?”  
  
“With time. A slight fracture like this should heal on it’s own without much help.” Deaton pulled his arm back, removing his gloves and tucking the towels back around Stiles. “I’ll get him some pain medication. It should heal in a few weeks, if he rests.”  
  
Scott nodded, but Deaton was already busying himself with needles and syringes. He watched Deaton select a vial of medication and draw it, the druid’s mouth set in a grim line. “You think I’m stupid for this.”  
  
“No, Scott, I don’t think you’re stupid,” Deaton replied. He tapped the air bubble out of the syringe, walking to Stiles and injecting the painkiller into his shoulder. Tossing the needle into the proper contained, he finally looked at Scott, leaning against the sink and folding his arms. “The nogitsune’s killed innocent people. He needs to be stopped.”  
  
It was reasonable, but the terrible ache of hypocrisy gnawed Scott’s mind. “Deucalion killed innocent people, and we let him go. The twins killed innocent people, and they’re still here. Peter killed... well, people we thought were innocent. Hell, even Gerard is still alive. They all did bad things. We let them all go. Why is this any different?”  
  
Deaton didn’t reply at first, turning his eyes to the floor in thought.  “I see your point.”  
  
“Maybe the people he’s killed aren’t so innocent. I just... I think we should try and get a reason from him, before we act. Kira said a nogitsune reacts like this when they’re offended. I want to know what happened.”  
  
“Fair enough.” Letting out a sigh, Deaton rubbed the back of his neck. “I had time to think, while I was gone. On the way back, I picked up some things from a contact of mine. It should help keep you both safer, until things get sorted out.”  
  
“Really?”  
  
“You’ve made your choice. I will guide you from here, as best as I can.”  
  
An uneasy silence feel between them as Scott tried to think of something to say. He was still upset, and he could tell Deaton wanted to say more, but wouldn’t. Would it do any good to say he was sorry? Not really. _And besides_ , Scott thought, _I’m not sorry_. He shook his head, clearing the anger before it had a chance to take hold again. “Thank you,” Scott managed to mumble. “It means a lot.”  
  
Deaton merely nodded. “I’ll carry Stiles. Let’s go back to my office. We have one more matter to address before the morning.”  
  
Bowing his head, Scott followed Deaton back into his office. Taking up his space on the sofa, Scott felt suddenly weary as Deaton placed Stiles’ body back in Scott’s lap. All he wanted was Stiles to open his eyes, and to have him be the real Stiles. “Do you think they’ll wake up soon?”  
  
“Maybe. Right now, it might be for the best that they’re not awake.” Picking up a black bag from the floor, Deaton set it on his desk and opened it up. Reaching inside, he pulled out an object that glinted metallic in the dim lighting. “One of the things I picked up on my way back is best used when the subject isn’t going to struggle.”  
  
“What is that?”  
  
“It’s a metal collar, blessed by a Shinto priestess. Kitsune are weak to blessed weapons... but since we’re not going to use weapons, we’re going to use the next best thing.”  
  
“A restraint.”  
  
“Exactly.” Deaton walked over to Scott’s side, holding it under the lamp on the table next to the sofa, giving Scott a better look at it. “Placed around his neck, it will lock the nogitsune inside Stiles’ body so he can’t escape to another host, and his powers will be suppressed. It’s a non-lethal method of containment.”  
  
“What happens when he decides he wants it off?”  
  
Deaton locked gazes with Scott, and the emotion there made Scott shiver. “The nogitsune won’t be able to take it off. Only the person who owns it, who puts it on, will be able to do so... and only of their own free will. He can’t force the owner to remove it.”  
  
Scott hesitated, looking away as a gut-wrenching suspicion began to coil it’s way through him. He asked, already knowing what Deaton was going to say. “And who’s going to put it on?”  
  
“That, Scott, would be you.”  
  
“No. There has to be someone else.”  
  
“Remember the influence you had over Malia? Maybe, being an Alpha, the influence can be extended to foxes as well. And besides,” Deaton continued, “Stiles is closer to you than anyone else. If anyone here has a chance of saving him, then it’s you. You can do this.”  
  
“I can’t control the nogitsune,” Scott argued weakly. His heart was hammering in his chest at the mere thought; having another soul under his thumb was a concept that made him want to throw up. “I can’t.”  
  
“Do you want to save them? Do you want to save Stiles?”  
  
Scott met Deaton’s eyes, stomach sinking at the question. There was only one answer; there would always be only one answer “Yes.”  
  
Deaton held out the collar, his voice softening. “Then yes. Yes, you can. Because you must.”  
  
Swallowing, Scott offered out his hands, and Deaton placed the thick, silver ring in his grasp. It felt cold, ordinary. He stared at it, running a thumb over the hinge, and over the ends where it would connect. One side just slid inside the other, snapping into place without the need for any lock and key. There were no outside mechanisms to unlock it; Scott just yanked on each side, and it popped open again, smooth as silk. His mouth felt dry as he suddenly seemed to feel the weight of it. It felt heavy, as if all the implications of what he was about to do lived inside the metal.  
  
Scott didn’t speak. Inhaling deeply and letting out the breath, he moved the collar to Stiles’ neck and snapped it shut. For a fraction of a second, the metal burned hot; Scott let go, yanking his hands back as a flash of red spread across the collar’s surface. The spot where it had latched, to Scott’s surprise, was gone. It was smooth all the way around, save for the hinge; it was the only hint there was that it ever able to open at all.  
  
“So it will be,” Deaton said quietly. “The sun will be coming up soon. Get some rest, and I’ll gather up the rest of what I need.”  
  
Unable to speak, Scott just nodded. When Deaton had gone, Scott tentatively touched the metal a second time; it was cool once more. It felt different, even so. It no longer felt like just a circle of fire and earth, and it didn’t really just look like one anymore, either. The collar rested low on Stiles’ neck, settling gently along his shoulders and collarbone. It was beautiful, despite what it was for, and Scott couldn’t fight the surge of possession that washed over him as he looked at it.  
  
His. They were _his_ , and he would protect them.


	4. Home

Dawn.  
  
Just the barest rays of light rose over the horizon, tinting the sky rose, turquoise and indigo. The oni were gone with the sun, dissolving into smoke and vanishing like they’d never been there at all. Deaton silently gathered up two bags that he’d prepared, loading them into his SUV before coming back for Scott and Stiles. Sliding into the back, he helped Deaton pull Stiles’ body in, cradling his friend’s head in his lap as Deaton shut the door and hopped into the driver’s seat. Finally... home. They were almost home. Just a ten minute drive, and they’d be fine.  
  
Deaton rolled down his window, thankfully rinsing the scent of strange medicines and sickness from the air. Scott breathed in the fresh morning breeze; leaning his head back and closing his eyes, he allowed himself to start to relax. He stroked Stiles’ hair absentmindedly, fingers straying down every so often to touch the silver collar. Scott didn’t want to think anymore, but he couldn’t turn off the growing doubts he had as they drew closer and closer to his home. How was he supposed to manage this? At some point, and some point soon, they were going to have to call Stiles’ dad. There had been no calls from him, no messages of any sort, but with what had happened... Scott had no idea how much of a mess there was to clean up. He didn’t know how they were going to explain all of it; at least one officer was dead, and how would Stiles’ dad react when he found out his son was the one who had planted the bomb? True, it had been the nogitsune inside Stiles, but...  
  
Scott reflected on the second text from Derek. _At station w Chris. OK. Framed 4 murder. B careful._ Worrying his bottom lip, Scott turned his eyes onto the body resting in his lap. The nogitsune had gotten Isaac hurt, and two people at the hospital killed. He’d gotten coach hurt, terrorized countless others... and he’d apparently stuck another murder on Derek and Chris, who could have gotten killed in the explosion themselves. Not to mention the incident at the clinic. What was going to happen once Stiles woke up? How much would he remember? How much would he have to live with?   
  
How much was _everyone else_ going to have to live with?  
  
Deaton’s voice made him jump. “Are you okay?”  
  
“Huh?” Scott blinked, realizing that they’d gotten to his house and had stopped. “Oh. Yeah, just tired. Sorry.”  
  
“Not a problem.” Deaton watched him in the rearview mirror. “How about you get the bags and handle the doors, and I’ll get Stiles?”  
  
It was a simple and mindless task. Perfect. Scott eased out of the car, grabbing the two canvas bags from the front seat and shutting all the car doors after Deaton gathered up Stiles from the back. Walking ahead of them, Scott focused on their surroundings; he didn’t hear anything out of the usual, nor did he catch the scent of unwelcome parties, but that didn’t mean much now. If the nogitsune could mask himself, maybe other kitsune could, too. It was one more question on top of so many other questions. Still, they made it to the door just fine, and the house seemed empty. Deaton entered with Stiles, and Scott locked the door behind them.   
  
“This way,” Scott said, leading Deaton up the stairs and to his room. “He can have my bed for now.”  
  
Deaton carefully laid Stiles’ body down on the bed, stepping back and looking to Scott. “Well, that’s step one. You’re home. What’s the next step?”  
  
“You said the collar would suppress the nogitsune’s power,” Scott said. “And keep him from hopping to someone else’s body.”  
  
“That’s right. Assuming it works as it should.”  
  
He didn’t even want to think about that idea. “Will it keep him from darting out the door?”  
  
Deaton shook his head. “I’m afraid not.”  
  
Scott ran a hand through his hair, thinking. He walked to his closet, opening it and eyeing the box in the back. It seemed ridiculous that he’d kept a box of chains and who knows what else; he hadn’t needed them since that one night on their first winter formal, forever ago. Still, he’d just shuffled it into his closet rather than get rid of it all, and Scott wondered how much he’d ever actually trusted himself. Now they would serve a purpose that seemed even more unreal. Opening the box, Scott brought out a pair of handcuffs; he ignored Deaton’s raised eyebrows, lacing the cuffs through a slat in the headboard and securing Stiles’ hands above his head.  
  
“Think that’ll hold him?”  
  
“It should. Kitsune don’t have the exact same benefits that werewolves have in terms of physical strength, and this one will be weakened, anyways.” Deaton glanced back to Stiles, his expression growing more gentle. “Hopefully, if nothing else, it will keep him from hurting himself.”  
  
“Okay.” Letting out a slow breath, Scott rubbed his forehead. “Is there a step three?”  
  
“There is. We have two things left to do in order to secure your house.”  
  
“What’s that?” Scott asked as Deaton began to open up one of the two bags.  
  
“Strips of mountain ash. I’m placing them over all the windows of the house.” Deaton held up a thin piece of wood, then walked to the window and reached up, resting it on the top of the frame. “The system we had before worked well enough, for emergencies. But for this situation, I want to reduce the number of possible entrances... and exits. With this, you will only have to worry about the front and back door.”  
  
“In case the nogitsune tries to get out.”  
  
“Or in case a kitsune tries to get in.”  
  
“What?” Scott frowned at the warning tone in Deaton’s voice, following his boss as he moved to the other rooms. “But Kira... She’s a friend. She won’t hurt Stiles.”  
  
“It’s not necessarily Kira herself I’m worried about. She doesn’t have to be against us to be used against us.”  
  
Scott stopped in the doorway of his mother’s bedroom. “Do you think her mother would use Kira to try and get to Stiles?”  
  
“I don’t doubt it for a moment. Nogitsune are not the only type of kitsune who are dangerous when they are offended or provoked.” Pausing, Deaton lightly rested a hand on Scott’s shoulder as he left the bedroom. “She’s a very strong young lady, with at least one strong kitsune as a parent. Maybe two. We have no idea how much she does or doesn’t know, or what, if anything, has changed since last night. We can’t assume anyone is a friend right now.”  
  
“I need to keep her away.”  
  
“For now, yes.” Deaton took his hand back and went to grab the second bag from Scott‘s room. “Alright, that takes care of the upstairs windows. Follow me. I’ll take care of the ones downstairs, while you can help with the second part.”  
  
Scott followed Deaton down the stairs and into the dining room, feeling a flicker of curiosity stir when Deaton sat the bag down at the table. “What can I help with?”  
  
“How much do you know about holly?”  
  
“Not much. I know it’s a Christmas thing.”  
  
Nodding, Deaton opened the second bag and brought out cloth, twine, and a few different jars filled with who knew what. He set them down, then picked up one that held a dark green powder. “Holly is a very special plant. It’s considered to belong to the element of fire, and a symbol of unconditional love and sacrifice. It is also a very powerful protector. Holly will keep the oni away.”  
  
“Is holly what you used at the clinic?”  
  
“Yes. We mix this with sacred earth,” he said, tapping a jaw filled with dark brown powder, then tapping the third jar that held what looked like dry mustard, “and powdered sulphur. Both are protective elements, and are said to neutralize harmful energies. We will secure one bag over each door, and then another bag will go into each corner of the house’s lower level. But,” Deaton added, “a word of caution. Whoever is controlling the oni? Once they realize the oni have tracked the nogitsune yet can’t enter a home, they will know that you’re housing him. And they just might come for him in another way. You’ll still have to be on your guard. Understand?”  
  
It was a lot to follow on so little sleep, but Scott at least grasped the important parts. Whatever this stuff was, it would keep out the oni, and Scott would have to keep out everything else. “I understand.”   
  
“Good,” Deaton smiled. He picked up a pair of gloves and tossed them to Scott. “Sulpher is toxic, so be careful. One scoop of each per bag.”  
  
They worked in silence, Scott doing what he was told while Deaton finished securing the downstairs windows. Once Scott was done filling and tying the bags, Deaton took them and began to put them into place. He was murmuring to himself, and Scott caught pieces here and there of some unknown language; when the last bag was tucked into place, Scott shivered. The air in the home felt different. Cooler, cleaner. Peeling off the gloves, he tossed them in the garbage and wandered into the living room.   
  
Deaton stood there, rubbing his chin while he looked around. “It should be safer now. At least against the oni, and any werewolf or fox trying to sneak in or out the windows.”  
  
“Thank you.”   
  
“Of course.” Tilting his head, Deaton eyed Scott as the younger man seemed to zone out right in front of him. “Is something wrong?”  
  
“I don’t know. I can’t think anymore.”  
  
Deaton slipped his palm under Scott’s elbow, gently leading him towards the staircase. “Sleep deprivation. You’re home, and safe. It’s time for you to go get some actual rest.”  
  
“But if the nogitsune wakes up...”  
  
“Sleep, Scott,” Deaton said, smoothly cutting off Scott’s protest. For a moment, Scott considered arguing his point. He had so much left to do, so many people he needed to contact. And Stiles’ dad... “I’ll stay here and make sure your parents know you’re both safe.”  
  
Scott opened his mouth, then shut it again. He couldn’t argue against that. Nodding, Scott made his way up the stairs and shut the door of his room behind him. For a moment, he stared at the bed where Stiles lay; there was enough room for two, but there was a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach at the thought. Fighting with indecision for a few minutes, Scott dragged a sleeping bag out of his closet, tossed it on the floor and laid down. Half of his mind begged for sleep, while the other half whirled with thoughts. How was he supposed to sleep? Scott didn’t know, but he forced his eyes shut and tried to get comfortable anyhow. His body couldn’t hold out forever.  
  
And maybe, just maybe, things would be looking up the next time he woke.


	5. Doors

It took Scott about two hours to fall asleep.  
  
Deaton waited until he heard light snoring before picking up his cellphone. It wasn’t too hard to find Scott’s mother; Scott had listed her as his emergency contact when he’d first started working at the vet clinic. Dialing the number, Deaton waited patiently as it rang once, twice, before the other end clicked to life.  
  
“Hello?” a tense voice asked.  
  
“Hello, Mrs McCall. This is Alan Deaton, Scott’s boss.”  
  
A woosh of air. “Oh god. How is he? How is Stiles?”  
  
“I have them both here at your house, as safe as they’re going to get. Is there any way you could get the rest of the day off? There’s a lot to explain, and it would be best if--”  
  
“I’ll be there in half an hour,” she cut him off. “Is that all?”  
  
“Absolutely. Goodbye.”  
  
Without another word, the line went dead. Deaton blinked, then gave the phone a small smile. No nonsense. He could appreciate that. Unfortunately, trying to track down the sheriff was a bit more work. The station was, understandably, in a state of disarray. But after two transfers and a fifteen minute wait, a familiar voice picked up the line.  
  
“Sheriff Stilinski, I have your son here at Scott’s home,” Deaton said after brief introductions. “It would be best if you’d get here as soon as possible so that I can explain the situation. Mrs McCall will be here soon, but I’d like to wait for you, if you can make it here.”  
  
The sheriff was silent for a heartbeat. “I’ll be there right away,” he finally replied. “Thank you.”  
  
And that was that. Deaton closed his phone, leaning back on the dining room chair and folding his arms while he thought. So many times before, as both a doctor and as a druid, he’d had to deliver bad news to people... parents, children, siblings, lovers. It wasn’t really so different this time, and yet it felt different. This time, it was all too personal. From what he knew of Stiles, he liked the boy; it hurt his heart to try and think of how to tell the kid’s father that Stiles might be gone forever. That they might have to kill him. But would they? If Scott was right...  
  
A knock at the door brought Deaton out of his thoughts. Standing, he walked to the door and opened it, knowing who it was before he even touched the doorknob. “Alicia.”  
  
His sister stood on the porch, her dark eyes narrowed as she rested her hands on her hips. “Where is he, Alan?”  
  
With the sweet and caring guise of a guidance counselor stripped away, Ms Morrell was likely terrifying sight to behold; Deaton didn’t flinch. “I’m not sure who you’re talking about.”  
  
“The damn fox, Alan,” she growled. “You know what has to be done.”  
  
“I agree with you.”  
  
She let out an exasperated sound. “Then why are you protecting him?”  
  
“Because unfortunately, the Alpha I’m guiding disagrees.”  
  
“You would place everyone in danger over the sentimentality of a boy?” Morrell asked, folding her arms across her chest and staring. “Have you gone insane?”  
  
Deaton stepped off to the side and motioned to the inside of the house. “Stiles might be human, but he’s very much a part of Scott’s pack. If you want to face the rage of a true Alpha, then come in.”  
  
“The balance...”  
  
“Is going to have to balance itself.” Deaton met her enraged glare with a look that was just as determined. “I’m not touching this one.”  
  
She opened her mouth, then closed it again. Stepping back, she turned away a moment before turning back, shaking her head. “You’re making a mistake.”  
  
He raised his shoulder in a casual shrug. “I know.”  
  
“Doctor?”  
  
Deaton looked past Morrell upon hearing sheriff Stilinski’s voice. “Ah, sheriff.” He shifted his expression into the most welcoming smile he could muster. Immediately, his sister followed suit with her own version of friendly charm. “I believe you’ve met my sister, Ms Morrell.”  
  
The sheriff glanced between them both, then smiled back at Morrell. “I believe so. You’re the guidance counselor from Beacon Hills High. Right?”  
  
“That’s right.” Morrell stepped towards the house. “I was just--”  
  
“She was just leaving. Why don’t you come in?” Deaton asked. The sheriff nodded, giving Morrell a quick goodbye as he slipped past Deaton. Turning his attention back to his sister, Deaton let the mask drop and moved to block the doorway. “I have business to attend. Goodbye, Alicia.”  
  
Morrell lowered her voice, leaning in close enough that only she and Deaton could hear. “You know what? Fine. Let the fox live for now, but I hope you know what you’re doing, Alan. Otherwise you’ve just doomed us all.”  
  
Deaton said nothing as he stepped back inside, clear of the door as he shut it. Once he was sure his sister had gone, he turned, walking to where the sheriff stood and sighing. “I apologize. Family troubles.”  
  
Sherrif Stilinski rubbed the back of his neck. Nerves. “She knows, doesn’t she?”  
  
“I’m afraid she does,” Deaton replied. In the back of his mind, he wondered just how she found out... and who else knew. She would never reveal her contacts, so there was no point in asking; it was something he’d have to explore, and soon. “We just never seem to see eye to eye. Nothing to be concerned about.”   
  
“I’m sure.” The sheriff didn’t look at all convinced. “You mentioned that you wanted to talk to Melissa and I both. Is she...?”  
  
The door opened just then, and Melissa breezed in. She locked the door behind her, running one hand through her curly hair and giving both men a tired half-smile. “She is.”  
  
For the first time since he’d arrived, sheriff Stilinski smiled. “Hello, Melissa.”  
  
“Hello, David,” Melissa greeted, returning the smile and gently resting her hand on his shoulder. Turning a bit, she extended her other hand to Deaton. “Hello again, doctor Deaton. I wish we could have met under better circumstances.”  
  
“It’s nice to see you again, Mrs McCall,” Deaton said as he shook her hand. “As for the circumstances, why don’t we sit down? We have a lot to discuss.”  
  
Leading the way, Melissa waved her hand at the dining room table and headed towards the alcohol cabinet. “Is there anything I can get for us?”  
  
Both the sheriff and Deaton shook their heads as they took a seat. “All I really want is an explanation,” sheriff Stilinski said as Melissa poured herself a shot of whiskey and sat with them. “What’s happened to Stiles?”  
  
Deaton folded his hands. At first he considered being gentle about it, but there was little point. It would hurt all the same, either way. “To put it simply, Stiles has been possessed.”  
  
“Possessed?” Melissa traded a worried look with the sheriff. “By... what? A demon?”  
  
“No, not exactly.” Taking a pen and pad of paper out from his shirt pocket, Deaton quickly sketched an outline of the typical kitsune. “Stiles has been possessed by a potentially malevolent spirit, called a nogitsune. They’re a type of kitsune, a Japanese fox spirit. They’re tricksters, and while I don’t know everything there is to know about them, I do know that a nogitsune’s pranks can turn violent when one has been offended.”  
  
“So this...” the sheriff trailed off, looking all the world like he was going to start breathing fire. He took a breath, rubbing his temples. “This thing inside Stiles is the evil bastard who’s been hurting all these people?”  
  
“I don’t know if I’d call the nogitsune evil,” Deaton replied with caution. “I have heard from various contacts that if a nogitsune is lashing out like this, it’s because that spirit has been wronged. The nogitsune may feel that his actions are completely justified.”  
  
Melissa nursed her drink as silence fell over the three. After a moment, she shook her head. “Regardless. How do we get rid of it?”  
  
“We don’t.”  
  
“What?” The sheriff leaned back in his chair; his eyes moved towards the stairs, hands clenching into fists. “I want that thing punished. I want my son back.”  
  
“I know, sheriff. The difficult part of all this is that a nogitsune is very difficult to separate from the host. There are only a few methods I know of, and all either would or could potentially kill the host.”  
  
Sheriff Stilinski seemed to deflate. He looked to Melissa, who pointedly kept her eyes on her glass. “Can I go see him?”  
  
Deaton hesitated. “It might be best if you waited. He’s... in a delicate state.”  
  
“What do you mean?” Stilinki asked, the tone of his voice suddenly razor sharp. “What happened to him?”  
  
A tiny shred of guilt wormed it’s way into Deaton’s heart. “I tried one method of getting rid of the nogitsune. A type of moss that is toxic to foxes.”  
  
Melissa snapped her head up, her mouth opening and closing for a moment before the words finally exploded out. “You _poisoned_ Stiles?”  
  
“Scott convinced me to give Stiles the antidote before it took full effect.” Deaton resisted the temptation to lower his gaze. The anger in the air was so thick that it felt like smoke, curling in his lungs and choking him; it was overwhelming, even though he has expected it. “You must understand, both of you, that this spirit is very dangerous. It had just set off a bomb, attacked a young girl and was in the process of torturing Scott when I gave him the injection. I did what I thought I had to do.”  
  
“But he’s _my son_. This is such...” Sheriff Stilinski put his face in his hands, taking long, slow breaths. After a moment, he put his hands down and fixed Deaton with the kind of stare that came from having a badge for over twenty years. “Is he going to be okay?”  
  
“I don’t know.”  
  
“Then I _am_ going to see him.”  
  
Deaton looked away then; he tilted his head, listening. The tiny snores that had been coming from Scott’s room had stopped, and he could hear movement. “Scott’s awake, I think. Go ahead.” He held his tongue as the sheriff stood and left the table. Deaton didn’t want to make a bad situation worse, but a warning slipped out his mouth as Stiles’ father began to climb the stairs. “Please be careful, sheriff. The young man you see laying there might not be your son. We’re still not sure how to tell the fox apart from Stiles, and foxes are very good at tricking people.”  
  
The sheriff paused long enough to listen, glance over his shoulder and nod in acknowledgment. Melissa watched after him quietly, waiting until he was gone before turning back to Deaton.   
  
“So this spirit is going to be part of him forever?”  
  
Deaton sighed. “I have no way of knowing. The best we can do now is to contain the nogitsune.”   
  
“Works for me. What do I need to know?”  
  
“The house is warded. There are four small bags at each corner of the house, and above the doors. There is also mountain ash secured above all your windows. Leave those in place, and much of the outside danger will be turned back. Don’t allow anyone inside the house unless Scott gives them the go-ahead. Do you understand?”  
  
“Enough.” Picking up her shot glass, Melissa rolled it between her palms as she tried to give Deaton a smile. “More than I think I should, sometimes. It’s scaring me that so much of all this is starting to make sense to me. How many people know what mountain ash is for?”  
  
“Not many.” Gathering his thoughts, Deaton drew a second image next to the doodled kitsune. “The creature that stabbed Scott’s father was an oni. They are usually called demons, but they’re closer to imps. Sometimes, people can command them to do various tasks. In this case, they’ve been commanded to kill the nogitsune. They won’t stop until they are either destroyed, or until they kill the nogitsune.”  
  
“How do you destroy them?”  
  
“I wish I could tell you, but it’s another mystery I’ve yet to solve.”  
  
“Well we’re going to have to find a way.” Melissa shook her head as she set down her glass. “They can’t have him.”  
  
Deaton folded his arms and rested his chin on one hand. He hesitated, then voiced the fear he hadn’t wanted to say in front of Stiles’ father. “Scott thinks he can save Stiles. I don’t know if there’s anyone left in there to save.”  
  
“I’m not giving up on him. I trust my son. If he thinks he can do it, then he can do it.”  
  
“A nogitsune is very temperamental spirit to deal with, and this one has already proven willing to kill. Your life is also in danger.”  
  
Melissa let out a small snort. “I almost went on a date with a murderous werewolf that was burned to death, and came back to life through a banshee. I got held hostage by a blind werewolf who wanted my son to join his little wolf cult. And, because I just couldn’t get enough, I got kidnapped by the Wicked Witch of the West and stuck in a root cellar, where I was almost sacrificed and buried alive. I think I’ll be fine.”  
  
“I see where Scott gets his spirit.”  
  
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”  
  
“It is. But I should get going,” Deaton said with a tiny smile. He gathered up the bags he’d brought, then stood from the table. “I’ll see if I can go find a way to stop the oni, or the person controlling them. I have an idea, but I need to make sure.”Standing, Melissa walked Deaton to the door and unlocked it. Deaton paused in the doorway, offering his hand in farewell. “I’ll call when I find something. But I want you to know... I really do want Scott to prove me wrong. I wish you all the best, and I’ll do what I can to keep you safe.”  
  
Melissa nodded, shaking Deaton’s offered hand. “Thank you, for everything.”  
  
Without further words, Deaton turned and left. Melissa shut and locked the door, watching the man get in his SUV and drive away. If only she trusted him as much as Scott seemed to trust him; there had been a look in his eyes that she hadn’t liked, a calmness to him that was altogether too calm for someone that had admitted to poisoning a teenage boy. Perhaps she’d have to keep an eye on the good doctor as well.   
  
It was all so much to deal with at once. She stood at the window, trying to sort out her thoughts as she watched the windchimes sway on the porch; she felt almost like a sentry on guard duty, or a dragon guarding her treasure. It wasn’t untrue. The boys were her greatest treasure-- Scott, Stiles, and Isaac. Two of those three were staring potential death in the face now, and Scott... Scott was in the middle, like he was always in the middle. Tears come to her eyes, but she refused to let herself cry; she would make sure they healed, and she would keep them safe. Somehow.   
  
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of steps coming down the stairs. Melissa turned, feeling her heart break as David stopped at the bottom step, his eyes glazed with unshed tears. He looked at her, and only managed to shake his head before he started to cry; moving from the window, Melissa opened her arms, and David stepped into them. She curled around him, resting her cheek on his shaking shoulder.   
  
“Oh, David,” she whispered, stroking his back. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”  
  
“I’m...” He coughed, stepping back after a few minutes and scrubbing at his eyes. “I’m going to get some of his things and bring them here. If that’s okay.”  
  
“Of course.”  
  
“I might be a bit. I need some, uh... I need some time.”  
  
“Why don’t you come by this evening?” Melissa asked, giving his shoulder a tiny squeeze. “You can stay for dinner.”  
  
“Yeah,” David murmured in reply. “I’d like that.”  
  
“I’ll watch over the boys. Take your time.”  
  
The sheriff moved his hand to the back of his neck, rubbing it and glancing at Melissa; for a second, it looked like he wanted to say something, but then he shook his head and headed for the door. “Thank you, Melissa. You really are a godsend.”  
  
Melissa watched him leave, locking the door behind him; she remembered a time where she didn’t feel she had to lock doors at all, and now it felt like it was all she did. Doors and locks and wards to keep people out. She walked into the kitchen and poured herself another shot of whiskey. If ever there was a day Melissa wished she could just get blissfully tipsy, it was definitely that sort of day.  
  
Leaning her back against the counter, she downed the shot and exhaled; this wasn’t what she imagined, when she pictured falling in love again. Werewolves, kitsune and demons didn’t seem very conducive to romance. Still... She couldn’t deny the fact that over the years, she and the sheriff had been growing closer, in no small part because of the secrets they shared. There had been many a night where she had called him, or he had called her, worrying about their sons, about the nightmares they’d been having, about the nightmares to come. Somewhere in there, there’d been a spark. If only there was time to kindle it, instead of having to sob and rage against the unfairness of the world.  
  
Maybe there would be, someday. She allowed herself a small flicker of hope before she pushed off the door and moved towards the stairs. At the moment, she had to worry about Scott. There was the familiar creaking and pausing of Scott pacing coming from above, and while she knew her son was probably dead on his feet, pacing meant he needed a shoulder to lean on. With a bit of liquid courage in her, maybe she’d be strong enough to handle this new chapter of Scott’s story. Not that it mattered, in her mind, if she was strong enough or not. She had to be strong enough. Her son needed her, and that was that.  
  
Taking a breath, Melissa squared her shoulders and walked up the stairs.


	6. Meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been a while since the last update! A little cold got me. ♥ Hopefully this chapter's worth the wait. Thank you all for the kudos, and the wonderful feedback! It's appreciated.

It wasn’t meant to be.  
  
At first, Scott had been hopeful; he was certain that after a point, his tired body would just turn off. An hour later, and he was staring at the ceiling without a speck of sleep in sight. Eight o’clock. Nine o’ clock. Ten o’ clock. The hours kept rolling by, the bright red numbers taunting him from the clock on his nightstand. He kept dozing off, only to be awoken by a sound that wasn’t really there... Or maybe it was there. Scott had no idea anymore.   
  
Rolling onto his stomach, Scott buried his face into his arms and tried to tune out everything. One more try. For a single hour, he succeeded in drifting off. The sound of voices downstairs roused him back to consciousness, and for a moment, Scott didn’t remember where he was; panic bit at his mind, until he heard his mother’s voice, quiet and soothing. Home. He was home, and he was safe. As he woke up more, he could also hear Deaton’s voice, and the voice of Stiles’ father. Scott sat up, rubbing his face and looking to his bed. Stiles was still in the same position, and still was absent of any scent or sound. Looking close, Scott could see the gentle rise and fall of Stiles’ chest; he was still alive. For the briefest second, he thought he sensed... something. A tiny shift. Looking harder, Scott was about to look with his wolf vision, but the sound of footsteps on the stairs drew his attention instead.  
  
“Afternoon, sheriff Stilinski,” Scott said as Stiles’ father stopped in the doorway. “Come in.”  
  
He gave Scott a weary smile, taking a step forward and entering the room. “Hey, Scott.” The smile faded as he looked over to where his son’s body lay. “He’s unconscious?”  
  
“Yeah.” Scott stood from the floor, moving to one side of the bed while the sheriff moved to the other. The sheriff reached out and touched Stiles’hair, and Scott fought the urge to growl; the wolf inside wanted to crouch over Stiles, to snarl at the intruder, but Scott managed to shove it down. This was a friend, not a foe. “He’s got a broken rib, and we’re not sure when he’s going to wake up. I guess it’ll be a while before we know exactly how much damage was done.”  
  
The look on the sheriff’s face made Scott’s heart ache; he’d expected the grief, but the hopelessness hiding just under the surface was terrifying. Was the sheriff giving up? It didn’t seem like him at all, but after recent events, who could blame him if he was? It had just been one horrific thing after another. Scott was suddenly thankful that he’d managed to dress Stiles before they had left the clinic. The last thing his father needed right then was seeing how bad a shape Stiles’ body was in; it’s not like the man could do anything about any of it, anyways. Better to let him worry about one thing at a time... and this was already too much, perhaps, for the sherrif to handle.   
  
“Why did you stop him?”  
  
Scott blinked at the sudden question. “Stop... who?”  
  
“Deaton. Why didn’t you just let the poison work?”  
  
Scott stared in silence, feeling his hackles start to rise despite his sympathy. The wolf pushed forward more than ever; the idea that he’d just let a pack member possibly die was ridiculous, and that said pack member’s own father would ask such a thing kindled a flame of anger deep inside him.  “Because it’s Stiles.”  
  
“Is it? I wish I could believe that.”  
  
“He’s still in there,” Scott replied, trying to keep his tone even. He swallowed down the anger, seeing the despair in the sheriff’s face. “And he’ll come back. I wish there was something I could say to make it easier, but you have to believe in him. Stiles needs you to believe. Right now, this is the safest place for him. I’m going to stay here and make sure he’s okay, but you need to not give up on him. Please.”  
  
“This is all so crazy,” the sheriff mumbled. He lowered his eyes to the floor, taking a deep breath in and letting it out before looking back up at Stiles. Moving closer to the bed, he reached out, hand heading towards the ring of metal around Stiles’ throat. “What...”   
  
Now, Scott growled. “Don’t.”  
  
The sheriff’s hand froze. He glanced at Scott, then quickly withdrew his hand. “Do I want to know?”  
  
“It’s...” Scott clenched his hands a few times, digging his claws into his palms as he fought against his instincts. Friend. Ally. Protector. Taking a breath, he regained control; the sheriff was watching him closely, and Scott wondered just how far the wolf had come forth. “It’s magic. It’s to keep the nogitsune powerless, until we figure out what to do about him.”  
  
“Magic. Right.” Running his hand through his hair, the sheriff shook his head. “I’m not used to there being magic dog collars. Hell, I’m not used to there being magic.”  
  
“You’re handling it really well, if that’s any comfort.”  
  
He said nothing at first, sinking into Scott’s desk chair and watching Stiles. When he spoke again, there was a tremor in his voice. “You saved his life, you know. Back when Claudia died... you saved his life. You’ve kept him on his feet. You always have.”  
  
Scott was thrown by the sudden shift of topic. He followed the sheriff’s eyes, resting a couple fingertips on Stiles’ hand. Unlike before, Stiles’ skin was cold to the touch; Scott frowned, ignoring the tiny spark of worry to force a smile for the sheriff. “He’s saved mine, a few times. He’s stronger than people think.”  
  
“You’re right. He’s...” Shaking his head again, the sheriff stood up and looked around the room, as if there was something there that might offer some sort of answer to an unasked question. “I’m going to go home, and get some of his things. Clothes. I’ll uh. I’ll bring them back here, since I guess he’s not coming home for a while.”  
  
“Alright. We’ll be here.”  
  
The sheriff stopped just outside the bedroom door, and Scott winced at the sudden wave of grief that rolled off the man. “He’s gotta come back. I can’t do this without him. He’s all I have left.”  
  
Scott moved to go towards the sheriff, but Scott saw his shoulders tense; hesitating, Scott stood between father and son, wanting to offer some sort of comfort, but knowing there was no comfort to be offered. “I’ll do my best, sir.”  
  
Nodding, the sheriff left and headed back down the stairs. Scott tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling and wondering silently if he could just sink into the floors and be done with it all. Maybe just jump out the window and run, and run and run, until his body was too tired to keep going. But he couldn’t, and because he couldn’t, he allowed himself to pace; he tried to walk out the anxiety, but it wasn’t helping. The way the sheriff had tense when Scott approached had struck a nerve. If Stiles’ dad couldn’t trust him...  
  
“Sweetheart?”  
  
“Mom.” Scott hesitated as his mother peeked in the room, before wandering to her and relaxing into her arms; she welcomed him into a tight hug, and Scott buried his face in her shoulder. “I’m so tired. First all this stuff with the Darach, and then Deucalion, now this... and work, and school...”  
  
“I know, sweetie. Look... don’t worry about school, okay? We’ll figure something out. I don’t want you worried about anything else right now. That can all wait.”  
  
Scott opened his mouth to reply, then stopped. He sniffed a bit, pulling back and raising his eyebrows. “Have you been drinking?”  
  
“Yeah.” His mother grinned. “Haven’t you?”  
  
“Can I?”  
  
“Not on your life,” she replied, her expression going stern. “But I’ll go make you some lunch, if you want.”  
  
Though his stomach growled at the idea of food, the idea of eating made Scott feel ill. All he wanted to do was lay down until everything was back to normal. “I think I’ll try and sleep some more,” Scott said. He didn’t think sleep would happen, but she didn’t need to know that. “Thanks, though.”  
  
Her eyes searched his, but she didn’t argue. “Hang in there. It’s going to work out.”  
  
After exchanging another hug, his mother slipped away and headed downstairs. Scott could hear her dialing work and asking for the next day off; he turned down his wolf hearing, not wanting to hear that discussion. It was bad enough his own life was being ruined by all this. He didn’t want to even think about how it was ruining his mom’s life, too. Scott knew there was only so much of the normal world they could ignore, emergency or no. Maybe school could wait, but the bills couldn’t. With all the weird stuff going on, the hospital needed his mother more than ever, and if she kept having to skip out because of him... and if he couldn’t go to work for Deaton until things settled down... things were going to get really problematic, really fast.  
  
Scott looked up at a small sound from the bed. Stiles’ body was still; he must have imagined it. Rubbing his face, Scott considered going back to sleep after all. Just as he was about to lay back down, the sound of clinking metal hit his ears like a gunshot. He whipped around, his breath catching in his throat as Stiles’ body began to stir. “Stiles?”  
  
The response was a low growl. Scott froze mid-step, staring into Stiles’ eyes as they opened. They were pure white, and Scott could see fangs where normal human canines used to be. Raising his hands in a gesture of peace, Scott took another step closer as the growl turned into a whine. “Hey. It’s me, Scott. I’m not going to hurt you. Can you understand me?”  
  
“Off,” the nogitsune growled, his voice hoarse as he struggled against the handcuffs. “Get them off.”  
  
“You need to stop, before you hurt yourself.”  
  
The nogitsune snarled louder, snapping his fangs in Scott’s direction. He thrashed harder, his fingernails turning to sharp claws and digging at the bedframe. “Get them off, _now_.”  
  
“I said,” Scott replied, his voice rising to a window-rattling roar as his eyes flashed red, “ _STOP_.”  
  
Stillness. The pure-white eyes faded back into Stiles’ dark brown ones, and Scott could see the fangs and claws retract; they were both breathing rapidly, a heady mix of anger and fear in the air, but at least now the nogitsune had stopped fighting. Keeping his hands up, Scott approached the bed until he was close enough to make sure the nogitsune hadn’t injured Stiles’ wrists in an attempt to get free.   
  
“Everything’s okay,” Scott said, a little bit louder than necessary. He’d heard a step on the stairs, no doubt his mother coming to see what was going on; he took a breath and listened, but there was silence after that. Thank goodness. Turning his attention back to the nogitsune, Scott lowered his voice again. “You have a broken rib. I know you want those off, but you need to hold still so you don’t hurt yourself more. Do you understand?”  
  
Eyeing Scott, the nogitsune eventually gave him a brief nod. He closed his eyes and rested his head back on the pillow; for a moment, Scott wondered if he’d slipped back into unconsciousness. “The oni...”  
  
“They won’t be able to get in. You’re safe here.” Scott paused. Slowly, he sat down on the edge of his bed; the nogitsune opened his eyes, but made no move. Scott scooped his sleeping bag off the floor, tucking it around Stiles’ body. By this point, it wasn’t like Scott was going to be able to sleep, anyways. “Here. This should help keep you warm, for now.”   
  
His hand accidentally brushed against Stiles’ cheek, and Scott felt what was almost like a tiny spark of electricity between their skin. Scott wanted to yank his hand back, but then their gazes met; the open curiosity in the nogitsune’s expression took Scott by surprise. There was a moment of hesitation, before Scott tentatively rested his fingers back on Stiles’ chilled skin. The fox leaned into his touch, just a little, and Scott found himself moving his hand up to brush through Stiles’ hair. It was absurd, really. After everything the nogitsune had done, here Scott was _petting_ him like a dog; perhaps more absurd was the fact that the nogitsune was _letting_ him. Hell, he seemed to be enjoying it, even.   
  
Scott frowned. This wasn’t right. The one under his hand wasn’t Stiles. And yet... It felt good to be close to him, to touch him, just as it had felt good to be near him at the clinic. Maybe it was because he missed Stiles; it was easy enough to pretend that this was the real Stiles, when the nogitsune stayed silent and Scott turned his senses off to everything that suggested otherwise. That wasn’t all there was to it, though. Even when he sat there and looked at the situation with as objective of an eye as he could get, he felt a sliver of attachment. There was something within him that wanted to protect the fox, something that wanted to reach out to the spirit and try to find some way to end things without resorting to murder. Not just for the sake of his best friend, but for the sake of the fox, too.  
  
Perhaps it wasn’t entirely unreasonable that a positive attachment could have formed. _A nogitsune feeds on pain_ , Scott considered. Did that have to be a bad thing? The nogitsune had taken Scott’s pain; though he didn’t want to admit it, for a few blessed moments, Scott had felt at peace. It had felt good. Was it possible that a nogitsune _could_ be a good spirit? Helpful, at least? He didn’t know, and he was too tired to enter the “good versus evil” territory. He’d gone over and over it so much already, trying to find some justification for what he was feeling. Maybe later he would ask Deaton, but for now...  
  
“Are you going to stay?”  
  
The soft question brought Scott back to the present. He blinked, realizing his hand had moved down to the collar. Scott pulled his hand back, moving up onto the empty side of the bed. _Fuck it_ , he muttered inside his mind. Snagging one of his pillows, Scott flopped and let out a long sigh as exhaustion moved over him like a heavy blanket; he closed his eyes, unable to keep them open anymore. “I’ll stay.”  
  
Saying nothing at first, the nogitsune watched as Scott stretched out and settled next to him. “Kyomu,” he finally said, his voice sounding as weary as Scott felt. “I’m called Kyomu.”  
  
“Oh,” Scott mumbled as everything began to fade away. “Nice to meet you.”  
  
“I highly doubt it.”  
  
Scott’s answer died on his lips as he fell into a warm, dreamless sleep.


	7. Secrets

Gentle nuzzling under his chin roused Scott to consciousness.   
  
“Good morning, sunshine,” a soft voice murmured into his ear. “Time to get up.”  
  
Shifting slightly, Scott let out a small, wordless murmur... before realization hit. His eyes snapped open, and the first thing Scott noticed were the handcuffs, dangling casually off the bedpost behind Kyomu’s head. “You slipped the cuffs.”  
  
“Trickster, remember?”   
  
The second thing he noticed was that the fox was curled around him, head tucked between Scott’s ear and shoulder. Scott’s first reaction should have been anger, or fear. He knew this, but sleep still clouded his mind, and the warmth of the arm slung around his waist was comforting. Right then, Scott almost curled around Kyomu in return, but then he spoke again.  
  
“So... Your mother popped her head in a little while back.”  
  
“My mother...” Scott trailed off, his eyes narrowing with anger as he shot up into a sitting position. The previous good feelings were gone in an instant. “You better not have hurt her, or I’ll--”  
  
Kyomu held up his hands in a gesture of innocence. “Easy, easy. She was just checking in, and I pretended to be asleep. I don’t want to harm any of you, let alone her.”  
  
“Yeah, sure looked like it back at the clinic.”  
  
“I didn’t harm you,” Kyomu pointed out, “I hurt you. There’s a difference.”  
  
“And the officers at the police station?”  
  
Without replying to the question, Kyomu leaned close enough that Scott could see flecks of gold and amber in Stiles’ chocolate eyes. His tone was sarcastic, but there was a deeper, rough quality to it that Scott had never heard before. “Are you going to lock me back up, master?”  
  
Scott felt his heart beat a little bit faster. Shaking his head, he moved off the bed and moved towards the bathroom. “Don’t run off.”  
  
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”  
  
He should have questioned everything that just happened, but Scott wasn’t exactly in the position to question much of anything, and like hell he was going to drag the fox into the bathroom with him. It was easy enough to blame his heart rate on anger... it was less easy to use anger as an excuse for the downstairs reaction, damn it all anyhow. _It means nothing_ , Scott growled to himself as he locked the bathroom door behind him and began to splash cold water on his face. If it was nothing, though, Scott knew he wouldn’t feel so ashamed. _Just take care of it_ , his mind suggested. It was natural, it happened to most people with that equipment, didn’t it? But something dark and uncomfortable curled in his abdomen; he couldn’t, he just couldn’t. Scott stripped down and threw himself into the shower, blasting the icy water and hoping to wash whatever it was away.   
  
By the time he emerged from the bathroom, it was nearly half an hour since he went in, and his mood had turned sour. It was ten in the morning again; they had slept an entire day away, and yet Scott felt like it hadn’t even been an hour. Kyomu was watching him too damn closely, and suddenly, Scott just wanted to be out of the room. “I’m going to get breakfast. You want any?” Scott asked, trying to fight his irritation. He wanted Kyomu to say yes; the image of how thin Stiles’ body had gotten was in Scott’s mind yet. Still, he didn’t push when Kyomu shook his head. “Alright. Stay here, please.”  
  
Scott scooted out of the room, almost running into his mom in the process as she came up the stairs. “Oh! Mom. Hi.” He blinked; his mom looked more tired than Scott had ever seen her before, and his bad mood softened into concern. His own problems didn’t matter so much anymore. “How are you holding up?”  
  
“Hey, sweetie.” She smiled, reaching out and ruffling his still-damp hair. “It’s been a long night, so I’m taking the day off. Are you alright?”  
  
“Uh. Kyomu slipped the handcuffs,” Scott offered. It was the best his brain could do just then. “Could be worse?”  
  
His mother’s eyebrows shot up, but she quickly wrestled her face back into a normal position at the pained look Scott gave her. She wasn’t sure which was more concerning, anyways; that her son possessed handcuffs, that he was throwing around a stranger’s name as easily as breathing air, or that the fact the nogitsune was loose seemed more of an annoyance than a danger. “The sheriff brought over some of Stiles’ things. Why don’t you get something to eat, and then bring his stuff up? I’ll keep an eye on him in the mean time.”  
  
Scott lowered his voice, frowning. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”  
  
“I’ll be fine, Scott.”  
  
Glancing between his mother and the fox, Scott nodded and went down the stairs. Melissa took a breath before entering the bedroom; everything in her told her not to go in, but Scott needed a break. Besides... Scott _hadn’t_ seem too disturbed that the nogitsune had slipped loose. Hell, and he was also apparently on a first-name basis with the critter, if her assumption was correct. If he thought there was danger, she doubted that Scott would have been okay with her going in. On the other hand, she knew how quick Scott was to trust a friendly face, and as she walked into the bedroom, the face that greeted her was friendly enough that she almost forgot it didn’t belong to Stiles.  
  
“Melissa. It’s good to see you again.”  
  
Almost. Melissa stopped between the door and the bed; his face may have been friendly, but his voice wasn’t Stiles’ voice. It was just different enough to make the hairs stand up on the back of her neck. “Again?”  
  
“It was good of you to give us that sedative. We really needed the rest.”  
  
“That was you?” she asked. Looking back, Melissa went over everything in her head the day that Stiles had come into the hospital, seeking her help. She remembered one moment that stuck out-- when he’d slipped from being shaky, disoriented and tripping over his own words to calm, collected and sarcastic as usual. At the time, she hadn’t thought about it. Now, it just made her sick. “Impressive.”  
  
“It was.” Sitting up, Kyomu crossed his legs and sighed when Melissa took a step back. “But I’ll behave better than I did at the hospital. I promise.”  
  
“I don’t know what you’re after.” Melissa planted her feet firmly on the ground, promising herself she wouldn’t retreat like that again. “But I’ll say this. Whatever you’re up to, you leave my boys alone. Scott. Stiles. Isaac. All of them, and the others, too.”  
  
Kyomu rolled his eyes and snorted. “Even if you could stop me... and you can’t, not forever... you wouldn’t. You’d never let harm come to poor Stiles. Neither would Scott.”  The hint of malice in Kyomu’s voice faded back into amiability. “Like I told Scott, I don’t want to harm this little Munsters set-up you’ve got going on here.”   
  
“Then what _do_ you want?”  
  
“Did you know, a purpose of tricksters is to teach lessons? Of course, individual spirits are going to want different things at different times, but most cultures will agree that trickster spirits are very important to humanity. Punishing the proud, breaking conventions and bending old, stale rules. Sometimes even being the hero.”  
  
“You’re not the good guy,” Melissa replied curtly. “Don’t even try to pretend.”  
  
“You’re right, I’m not. But I’m not the bad guy, either. I’m just a trickster.” Kyomu traced the patterns in the wood grain of the bedframe, lost in thought for a brief moment. “Scott wants me to tell him all my secrets. Maybe I will.” He paused, flicking his gaze up at Melissa. “But I’m not the only one with secrets, am I?”  
  
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”  
  
“Now, now. Don’t try to con a con man. We already know, Melissa. We know all about Scott’s father, and Claudia.”  
  
Balling her hands into fists, Melissa’s vision swam as she tried to push down the sudden tears that stung her eyes. “You’re lying.”  
  
“I would be insulted, but I haven’t really been honest with you all, have I?” Kyomu tilted his head. A small smile crossing his lips as he rested his chin on the back of one hand. “Stiles heard the phone call. He notices so much more than people think. He’s really quite remarkable, you know. Keeping your secret all these years, because he knew it’d destroy Scott. Hell, it damn near destroyed him. Probably because he’d fallen in love with Scott by then. But you know that, don’t you? You notice a lot more than people think, too.”  
  
“So, what? You’re going to tell Scott? Is that the game here?”  
  
“Oh, Melissa.” Kyomu stood up from the bed, slowly moving to stand in front of her. “Do you want to know one of my secrets? I’ll tell you. Consider it a freebie, because I like you.” He leaned in close, his breath ghosting along her cheek as he lowered his voice to a whisper. “This isn’t a game. None of it.”  
  
She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting the urge to bolt. “Then what is it?”  
  
“War.” Pulling back, Kyomu clicked his tongue in a sound of pity; the poor dear looked so confused. “See, Melissa, the thing is? You’re all just about two hundred years late for the first shots. But that’s okay. You’ll all see. As for Scott...” He smiled in full. “I’m not going to tell him anything. You’re going to tell him.”  
  
“I...” Melissa faltered. She didn’t know what he meant by war; she couldn’t even start to imagine what kitsune would consider war. But she knew what those last five words meant, all too clearly. What they’d mean for Scott. “Please. I can’t do that to him.”   
  
Kyomu’s smile vanished in an instant. “You’re going to tell him, because he deserves to know. He has to know. And you’re going to tell him, because he wants answers from me. I don’t give something for nothing. Someone has to pay in somewhere, and Scotty can’t handle the fees. Not yet. So, like the good mother you are, you’re going to cover him.”  
  
Tears finally slid down Melissa’s cheeks as she hung her head. “If I tell him... If I tell him, you’ll tell him what he needs to know?”  
  
“And I’ll even tell the truth.”  
  
Melissa took a moment, letting the tears run their course. She wanted to hate him in that moment, wanted to snarl and hiss every filthy word she felt on her tongue, but the frankness of his tone stemmed the venomous urge. Scott needed to know. She’d seen Stiles struggle with his feelings when he thought no one noticed, and seen the desperation behind his attempt to focus on Lydia; it hadn’t been until she’d seen the look in Scott’s eyes tonight that she’d even considered that Scott was struggling, too. How much longer could the pretending go on, then? It had been safe enough when it had been a crush with a one-way ticket to nowhere. Now? It was only a matter of time, wasn’t it? And what would happen when...?  
  
Damn this guy, he was right, and as she lifted her head and met his gaze, Melissa knew that he knew it. Just another card he had in his hands. “Fine,” she whispered. “Fine. I’ll tell him. But if I do this, then I’m going to need you to promise me something.”  
  
“Oh?” Intriguing. “What is it?”  
  
“I want you to promise me that when this... whatever this is... is over, you’ll let Stiles go.”  
  
At first, Kyomu just stared at her. It was tempting to tell her then, to tell her that Stiles could be gone; it would be better, perhaps even kinder, than allowing her to hold onto false hopes. He shook his head instead, choosing to keep that detail to himself. “I can’t promise you that, Melissa.”  
  
“We need to know he’s still in there, at least,” she begged. “Please, even if it’s just for--”  
  
“You have three days to tell him.”  
  
Melissa felt her stomach sink at the sharp, steel-cold words that cut her off. She searched that familiar, and yet so different face, one question burning in the back of her mind. When it slipped out her lips, it sounded as desperate as she felt. “Is Stiles even alive in there?”  
  
“Three days.”  
  
The finality in those words was painfully obvious; they were done here. Curling her arms around herself, Melissa nodded silently as she backed away towards the door. Kyomu moved back as well, wincing inwardly as he settled on the bed; the interaction had drained him far more than reasonable, and the twinge of pain in his side had turned into a steady, aching throb. But at least now... Now the road was paved, and all he had to do was lead Scott down it. Soon he’d be free of the damn collar, and then...  
  
Then what?  
  
Feed. Heal. Wait. Kyomu had done it before, and he could do it again. If nothing else, he was good at waiting. Timing was everything, naturally, and this time wasn’t so different. Though... He watched Melissa, rolling her words around in his head. More different than he liked. Despite his propensity for mischief, keeping promises was another thing he was good at, which is why he made them so rarely. Now, he’d made two in one day. What was to be done about that? Kyomu frowned, laying back on the bed and staring at the ceiling as he considered the options. He could see the chess board in his mind, and all the little pieces... including the pieces that Scott and the others didn’t know existed. It was one of those invisible pieces that Kyomu didn’t know how to play. Not now. He needed to figure it out, and soon. He’d promised Scott he wouldn’t harm the wolf or his pack, and he’d promised Melissa he’d answer Scott’s questions. But would Scott ask the right questions?  
  
There were so many things Scott didn’t know. So many secrets. If only Scott knew Kyomu wasn’t the real threat. Oh, he’d caused his share of trouble, but Scott and his little friends were barking up the wrong tree. It was almost sad. Almost. He thought it was still pretty damn funny, or at least he had been. Not so much now, when he thought about it.  
  
Kyomu traced a pattern on the blankets, flexing the stiff, cold muscles of the body’s fingers. Stiles would want him to protect Scott. He wasn’t supposed to care what the boy wanted; that hadn’t been part of the plan. Still, when Kyomu had found Stiles... just after Stiles’ encounter with the Nematon... he’d taken an instant liking to the human. The kid had a snappy sense of humor, all of it covering a deep, intense suffering and a desire to belong. A desire for family. Stiles was loyal, would always take a bullet for his friends, especially for Scott. The darkness had taken root in that loneliness. It had been underhanded, exploiting that heartache, but so easy. All Kyomu had to do was open the door and whisper to Stiles, offering him a chance to no longer be alone.  
  
Then, all he had to do as wait. Wait, and watch Stiles fall into pieces. Watch all those pieces fall into place in a new arrangement of someone else’s design. Now, there were only a few more moves left, and the fight would be over. What he hadn’t quite anticipated was growing attached to Stiles, and through Stiles, Scott. The ripples had spread outwards from there. Melissa and David, Isaac, Derek... even the twins. It was the punchline at the end of the joke that was his life: a fox, seeking a pack.   
  
It had grown harder and harder for Kyomu to do what needed to be done; it was only a matter of time until he was no longer deemed useful. Maybe this, then, was the inevitably conclusion. Curled up in the den of the enemy, betraying his mission and waiting for the axe to fall. All because, like Stiles, he secretly wished to belong.  
  
 _The mission._ What was Scott going to do when he found out that--  
  
Movement out of the corner of his eye alerted Kyomu to Scott’s return. He kept his eyes on the ceiling, pretending not to hear the hushed whispering between Scott and Melissa. Once he heard the sound of Melissa’s footsteps fading, Kyomu propped himself up on the bed. “You brought me gifts,” he commented cheerfully, seeing Scott bring in Stiles’ travel bag. Scott said nothing, dropping the bag on the bed and giving the fox a look; the stab of guilt was not something Kuomu was accustomed to feeling, but there it was. “She was upset, I take it.”  
  
“What happened?”  
  
Kyomu sat up, setting the bag in his lap and curling around it like a massive pillow. “She asked me a question that I couldn’t answer.”  
  
“What did she ask?”  
  
“She asked me if I would let Stiles go, and if Stiles was still alive inside this body.”  
  
“And?”  
  
“I don’t know.” Kyomu paused, then opened the bag and brought out Stiles’ pillow. He placed it on the bed. Digging a bit more, he found two little plush dogs near the bottom. For a moment, he wondered if Stiles would have been embarrassed at his best friend and crush finding out he slept with stuffed animals, but he pushed it out of his mind. Moving the bag out of the way, Kyomu placed both dogs on the pillow. “Stiles’ mental space is like a room,” he started, gesturing to the pillow. “It can look like anything, contain anything. He welcomed me into that room, and as he weakened, I took more and more control of his mental space. The thing is, the room has a door. The door leads from his mental space, to this waking reality. When we were poisoned, Stiles...” Kyomu left the white plush dog on the pillow, and moved the black one to sit on the bed. “I thought we were dying, so I put Stiles into a deep sleep inside his mental space. But now the door between here and Stiles is locked. I don’t know how to reach him, and even if I could, I’m too weak to wake him.”  
  
Scott watched the demonstration in silence. He hardly waited a moment before glancing up at Kyomu. “How can you regain your strength?”  
  
“How?” The quick reply threw Kyomu off-guard. “By feeding.”  
  
“If you fed,” he asked, “you could wake Stiles up?”  
  
“If I didn’t have a magic collar restraining my power, yes. Probably.”  
  
“I can’t take that off.”  
  
Kyomu shrugged. “Then I can’t feed, I can’t use my powers to heal the body, and I can’t wake Stiles up. If I can’t feed, I will weaken further. In time, I will die. At that point, this body will become an empty shell.”  
  
“Shit.” Sinking down into the chair next to the bed, Scott rubbed the bridge of his nose. “How much time, before you get sicker?”  
  
“Three days.”  
  
The answer wasn’t technically a lie. Kyomu could already feel the body weakening; it was growing colder, and thinking was more difficult. Combined with the effects of the poison, well... it wouldn’t be too long until he needed to feed. Three days wouldn’t be the point of no return, but oh, the timing would be perfect. How would Scott react when all the little threads tied together? Kyomu smiled inwardly as he watched Scott think. All he had to do within the next three days was open Scott’s eyes to the possibilities; Kyomu could be a valuable ally, after all. Surely Scott would agree to that. He wasn’t stupid, after all, and obviously the wolf felt some strange compulsion to be trusting. All Scott had to do was follow the bread crumbs, and well...  
  
Scott picked up his cellphone and fiddled with it; he snapped it shut again, then sighed. “Alright. I need to talk to the others. Once I’m sure everyone’s on the same page, I’ll take it off.”  
  
“Afraid I’ll run?”  
  
“I’m afraid you’ll run and get caught by whoever’s controlling the oni,” Scott replied. He glanced at Kyomu, and there was an interesting emotion there that Kyomu caught sight of just before Scott looked away. “I’m trying to protect you, and the rest of us.”  
  
Kyomu began unpacking the rest of the bag, coming up with a plan of his own. Tossing the clothes onto the floor, he thought over Scott’s pack; perhaps giving him a hint of what to do would be wise. A show of good faith. “Talk to Derek. Talk to the twins. Keep Lydia especially close, keep Kira distant, and get Isaac away from Allison.”  
  
“... I don’t understand.”  
  
“If you want to protect me, that’s how you do it. And it’s how you protect the rest of your pack.” Kyomu grabbed the pillow and laid back on the bed. He looked over at Scott, batting his eyelashes with a tiny smirk. “Maybe if I wasn’t so cold, I’d tell you more.”  
  
Scott glared from his spot in the chair, unmoving, then stood and walked to the bed. He picked up a blanket his mother had brought, opening it up and draping it over the fox; while Kyomu settled under it with a pleased sound, Scott sat on the edge of the bed and gave him a wary look. “You were saying?”   
  
“It’s actually very simple. Kira’s mother, Noshiko, is controlling the oni.”  
  
“How do you know?”  
  
“We had a nice chat at the hospital. We have a history, I guess you’d say,” he added in a tone that absolutely dripped disdain. “Kitsune are like humans, in some ways. We have different families. Different clans. Sometimes, those clans go to war. Sometimes, blood fights against blood. Out of all the kinds of kitsune, the nogitsune were...” Kyomu’s smile twisted into a grimace. “Not well liked.”  
  
Scott pulled his legs up onto the bed, edging just a little closer. “What happened?”  
  
“The same thing that always happens in history. It was genocide; we were assumed to all be evil, so they did away with us. In the fighting, most of our kind were killed. Friend turned against friend, family against family. Some nogitsune fled to another plane of existence, the void. My own mother was killed in the war that followed; I was only a kit at the time.”   
  
“I’m sorry to hear that.”  
  
Kyomu said nothing in reply, continuing his story. “I managed to make it to the safety of the void, anyways. Those of us who survived became something... different. It’s ironic, isn’t it,, that their actions against us turned many of us into the monsters they claimed we always had been? We ached for revenge, and began to feed off of human emotions to become strong. Some of us became strong enough that we could travel back and forth easily between here and the void. I was one of those nogitsune.”  
  
“How does this tie in to now?” Scott wondered.  
  
“I’m getting there,” the fox answered, giving Scott a mock scowl. “You see, I came back here to find the one who killed my mother, and exact revenge. That kitsune was Noshiko. I took human form and searched for her. It was 1943, when I finally found her; she was in an interment camp called Oak Creek.”  
  
“Isaac told me someone called Allison’s phone with some message about Oak Creek. Kira’s father said there was no such thing.”  
  
“Well, he would say that. You won’t hear about it in any text book. After what happened there, the government covered it up. I’ll spare you the history lesson, but internment camps were not good places, to say the least. I posed as an American soldier who worked there. It was too easy to get her to fall in love with me; I expected it to be a challenge, but she walked right into it.”   
  
“You... tricked her into falling in love with you?” Scott asked, glancing over and then glancing away. “Why didn’t you just kill her and move on, if that’s what you were after?”  
  
“It wasn’t a nice plan, no. But I wasn’t trying to just kill her. I wanted her to suffer. I wanted her world to be broke, so yes, I seduced her. From there, it was a simple matter of revealing to her the corruption going on within the camp. American soldiers were selling medicine on the black market, you see, and when sickness struck the camp... It was unfortunate, but it served us well.”   
  
Scott laid back on the bed for a long while, soaking in the story; it was a lot to take in, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about several parts of it. He could understand wanting to get revenge. If someone killed his mother, he probably would have wanted her killer dead, too. But... Suddenly he rolled onto his side, staring at Kyomu with wide eyes. “Wait. What do you mean by ‘us’?”  
  
“That’s a good question, isn’t it?” Kyomu gave Scott a smirk. “I was busy covering the American side. A second nogitsune was inside the camp, among the Japanese Americans. Together, we formed a plot to bring the entire thing down... and ruin Noshiko in the process.”  
  
“Wait, so... There were two of you.”  
  
“Oh, yes. I wasn’t alone in wanting revenge on her. I made Noshiko aware of the black market scheme. She told the prisoners, and the nogitsune within the camp helped incite a riot.” Kyomu grew quiet. He traced patterns along the pillow; for some reason, despite how many times he’d gone over these memories on his own, if felt different actually sharing them. Shaking his head, he brushed it off. “It didn’t quite go as planned.”   
  
A strange, sinking feeling washed over Scott. “How so?”  
  
“You see, Eichen House was functioning as a sort of military facility at the time. A hospital. The people of the camp came there, trying to find the doctor responsible for the medicine shortage. The nogitsune there had lit a molotov cocktail, intending to hit the doctor. One of the other prisoners grabbed it from them, and it hit me instead. My body was badly burned, to the point where it seemed I was dead. However, kitsune have an ability to heal, much like werewolves. I survived, though I was thrown in with the other dead. So many people were killed.”   
  
“But not Noshiko?”  
  
“Ironically, Noshiko had been shot in the fighting, and assumed dead. She was alive, and while we were there in that truck, she used her power to call upon a nogitsune spirit to take revenge. I was able to feed off that energy, and because of that, I survived. I don’t really know if there are ancestors, or gods; I doubt it, most days. But she begged the gods for our wrath, and we were all too happy to give it to her. I killed everyone within Eichen House.”   
  
It wasn’t a surprise, and yet Scott felt sick. There was a murderer in his house... in his bed. There was a murderer in his friend’s body. It was one thing to know it, and to know that he’d let people like Deucalion and the twins go free, but it felt different to have someone admit it so openly and without a hint of shame. “Why everyone?”   
  
“Because they were all guilty, Scott. Every one of them.” The conviction in Kyomu’s voice was so strong, Scott didn’t bother questioning it; there’d be time later for moral debates. “By the time I got back to the camp, everyone there was dead, too. The other nogitsune had handed that, but they were long gone when I got there. The only living creature I saw was Noshiko, and I cornered her. I told her I never loved her. All those awful things you say to someone, when you want to hurt them. I wanted her to hurt, like I had hurt. But Noshiko wasn’t alone. There was a werewolf, who stabbed me in the back with her claws. It distracted me long enough that Noshiko ran me through with her katana, killing my mortal body.”   
  
“It’s been over seventy years since then. Obviously you didn’t die, so what happened?”  
  
“I don’t know. I don’t remember what came after. The next thing I knew, I was floating up from the roots of the Nematon. I found Stiles just after his sacrifice, and for a time, we coexisted in a sort of harmony.”  
  
They both fell silent, and Scott tried to process that information. Stiles had been possessed for that long? Scott hadn’t noticed anything off about Stiles until the start of the school year. How much of that had been because nothing had been wrong, though, and how much of that had been because Scott hadn’t been paying attention? Scott didn’t know, and the feeling of guilt hit him again. Still, something had obviously changed, assuming Kyomu was telling the truth. “But if you and Stiles were coexisting, then what changed that?”   
  
“She came back.”  
  
“Kira’s mother?”  
  
Kyomu shook his head. “The second nogitsune.”  
  
“She...Who is she?”  
  
“That’s the beauty of it. Noshiko was only looking for one nogitsune. Me. Once she found me, she made the oni stop hunting. All according to our plan.” Lifting his arm, Kyomu reached out to Scott and gently brushed his fingers over the kanji behind Scott’s ear. Scott shivered, and Kyomu smiled. “Who among you wasn’t checked by the oni, Scott?”  
  
The feeling in the pit of Scott’s stomach turned to icy chills; Scott swallowed. His mouth had gone dry, and at the same time, he wanted to throw up. “Allison.”   
  
“Smart wolf.”  
  
“It... it can’t be.”   
  
“How do you think I knew you took Isaac’s pain, Scott? The arrow? The emitters? Chris and Derek getting framed? Who knew that Katashi guy’s location? It wasn’t me. I came here to get even. She came here to destroy, and it just so happens that working with her kept her from slitting my throat.”  
  
Scott felt panic bubble up in his chest, and he scrabbled for his phone. “I have to tell the others. I--”  
  
“No!” Kyomu moved his hand forward, snatching Scott’s hair in his fist and pulling Scott back down. Scott froze, breathing faster; Kyomu let go just as quickly as he’d grabbed hold, seeing a crimson flash in Scott’s eyes. “No. I just. I know you don’t trust me, and that’s fine. But if you trust me about anything, let it be this. She is too powerful for you. I can help you. I want to help you.”  
  
Scott set his phone down, panic replaced by a growling wolf. He leaned forward just a bit, his voice slipping into what was almost a purr. “Why would you do that? What’s in it for you?”  
  
It took every ounce of willpower to not yank at Scott’s hair again, to not pull him closer. It was a little too soon for that. He pulled away and rested again on the pillow; patience was tiring. “To make amends. To help Stiles. And, I suppose, to help myself.” Kyomu glanced at Scott’s lips, then back to his eyes. _Much_ too soon. “We walked the same path once, but she’s... putting a damper on my fun.”  
  
“What do you suggest I do, then?”  
  
“Talk to the pack about Kira and her mother, and only that. Make sure Lydia and Isaac are safe; Lydia’s powers will be useful to a nogitsune, and Isaac is weak, so they will need to be guarded. Be subtle. Don’t warn them about Allison, not yet. If you start pulling back now, she’ll know and move sooner.” Kyomu paused, thinking. “No. Tell Derek. He’s close enough that maybe he can keep an eye on Chris, but distant enough that she won’t notice him acting too different.”   
  
“And then?”  
  
“And then set me free. Help me heal, and I will help you fight the nogitsune.”  
  
Fear swirled inside Scott as the inner wolf settled, the bravado that came with it fading. So many questions buzzed through Scott’s head, but every time he tried to grasp at one, it slipped away to the back of his mind. If Kyomu was pulling another trick, then they would all be screwed. But if he was telling the truth and Scott didn’t listen... who knows what would happen?  “Give me three days. Time to contact the pack, and try to get Isaac home.”  
  
“Fine.” Yawning, Kyomu closed his eyes and pulled the blanket up over his head. “I guess I better get my beauty sleep, then.”  
  
Scott opened his mouth, then shut it again. He couldn’t argue that; Stiles had been getting so little sleep, Scott couldn’t imagine how the body was even managing to be conscious at all. Besides, it kept the fox out of trouble. If nogitsune ate the emotions produce by conflict, it was no wonder that their tricks often involved humans running into all sorts of misfortune. Scott would have thought that humans generated enough misery on their own, without any help, but he couldn’t pretend to know a kitsune’s needs better than a kitsune. Still, it did pose a question Scott hadn’t thought to ask before agreeing to all this.  
  
“If a nogitsune feeds on pain and chaos,” Scott wondered, “how am I supposed to feed you?”  
  
Kyomu, either sleeping or pretending to, didn’t reply. Scott sighed, flipping open his phone and going through his contacts; he’d cross that bridge when he got to it. For now, he had to worry about the rest of his pack. _Here’s to hoping_ , he thought as he dialed the first number, _that this isn’t a trap_.


End file.
